Demon Child
by HistoryintheMaking
Summary: Sophia's strict Christian upbringing interferes with her ability to accept what she has now become. Can the Cullens teach her to love herself, even when God doesn't? OCxCullens.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Don't know where I'm going with this. Advice, critique, and suggestions are welcome with open arms, a box of chocolates, and free champagne --- minus the box of chocolate and champagne.**

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I don't exactly remember how I found myself in the state that I'm currently in, and even if I did know, I doubt it would change a damn thing. Growing up with a devout Christian/die-hard conservative, who told me that my mother was a sin-loving woman that wanted nothing to do with me, and that my good-for-nothing father was the devil, for a grandmother, one could imagine that my childhood was less than perfect.

I was brought up with strict Christian values and taught to fear God in such a way that I should never commit a sin, lest my goal in life was to burn in the deepest pits of hell. My grandmother believed that anything not stated in the King James version was the work of the devil, and that true Christians separated themselves from this. She believed that her rules assimilated God's rules, and that fear was the best way to enforce this.

I can remember that even as I downed my maple syrup oatmeal in a plastic Barbie bowl, she recited stories about demons who were out to get children of God like me. I told her that I was scared of tales like these, and that I wanted to hear nicer ones like the other kids did.

"Heathen stories?" she said, using an accusing tone. "You want to hear devil stories about faeries and witches and idols? I think not."

There was one demon that my grandmother made sure to remind me of every day. She enforced that this demon sat next to the devil in hell; that this demon was against all of God's creatures; and that this demon was a murderer who wanted nothing more than to take me away from God.

"Sophia," she once said, "The blood demons are fond of children who don't read their Bible. The devil preys on the weak!"

I always made sure to read my Bible after that, and so often that I literally knew chapters like the back of my hand. And although I became stronger in my faith through this fear of the devil and what God would do to me, that didn't stop one from sinking his teeth into my shoulder.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I know that this Fanfic is really controversial, and some of you are afraid to explore or comment with these types. I get it. That's why I wrote it. I am a Christian, and I wanted to show the God that I know. Although it may look like I'm making God out to be the bad guy, I'm actually not. This is Sophia's POV. She's been raised with fear, so this impacts a lot of her decisions and viewpoints.  
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"Sophia," Esme called, "Could I trouble you with a favor?"

"Sure," I said, swiveling around from my computer desk to face Esme. She stood in the doorway, her hands folded together and pressed against her stomach.

"I need help delivering baskets to some of the cancer patients at the hospital, and the others are too busy to help. I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me."

I never really understood how Esme could be so unselfish, and it almost killed me to say no to her because of it. When I was adopted into this family, Esme went out of her way to comfort and console me. She offered a lap to lay my head upon, a song to caress my ears, gentle hands to brush my hair away from my face, and a secret sort of friendship that I had never known before. She didn't even have to be coaxed into it, she practically grabbed my head and placed it upon her lap. I know for a fact that my grandmother would have never done anything like that. She never approved of anyone, let alone welcomed anyone as wholly as Esme would. Sometimes, after she'd finished with meeting a few of my friends from school, she would say something cruel or extremely rude. _She's got a bit of sin in her. Her mother allows her to dress like that? I bet her mother is a heathen.  
_

How the others managed to refuse Esme's charms, I don't exactly know, but I have always been a victim to it, and I doubt Carlisle is any better than I am. If anything, he's thirty times worse.

"Absolutely," I said, getting up from my chair. "I'll go get dressed."

"Meet me downstairs in five? We'll be taking Edward's Volvo."

Apparently _all _of us aren't immune to Esme. Edward's silver Volvo, for some reason, was incredibly important to him that I'm sure he'd rather sacrifice his wife than allow anyone else to drive it; in fact, the idea of someone else in the driver's seat seemed unconventional. It was as if he and this car held a special connection that no one could understand. I don't know whether it was him just being awfully picky about how his stuff, or him just being haughty, but how someone as intelligent as Edward could be so up tight about a silly car just drives me nuts.

I nodded, and Esme floated back to wherever she came from, and indeed she floated because Esme was so poised and so graceful that she the term "walk" didn't really apply to her. And she didn't sit either, she drifted down to a chair. She didn't laugh, she chortled. Everything about her was completely angelic and feminine that you couldn't help but avert your attention to her. And if it was one thing that you had to take in about Esme, it was how well put together she looked. She was always presentable, whether drenched in designers, or cotton-clad, Esme looked remarkable.

No wonder Carlisle practically flaunts her at the hospital.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So. New Chapter. Two Reviews. That's all I get. There were 22 hits, and I got 2 reviews. And one author alert. **

**All right. Fine. I'm not complaining or anything. I'm just going to sit here and wait.  
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**"Iris" by Goo Goo Dolls  
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We were waiting outside of a room where a young woman, no older than twenty five years old, was just finishing up her check up with the oncologist Doctor Roberts. Esme fiddled with the ribbons on the tiny basket, which held three muffins and a card. I asked her why she had put a card -- she didn't even know his woman. She smiled but bared no teeth, and said it made things more personal

This is my first time going with her to the hospital, or rather, anywhere else outside of the Cullen home since I became the devil. They said I had to learn to control my thirst. I knew it meant that I had to learn not to kill people.

But I could still hear their heartbeats -- one slower than the other, but still beating. I could still hear that hypnotic_ thud-thud... thud-thud..._ that called to me every moment of the day. The burning at the end of my throat continues to remind me that I still need her blood, no matter how much I crave to walk among them. It's like shushing your true self, so that you can pretend to be normal. It's like putting on a show, a wonderful grand show for everyone around you and recieving no applause after it. Only by yourself could you unleash your true nature because no one would be looking. I feel like a liar. A nasty, disgusting liar. And lying is a sin.

When Doctor Roberts exited the room, his clipboard tucked underneath the arm through his lab coat, his blood still pulsating through his veins, he stopped to greet Esme. I almost died. His blood was all I could think of. He was so close. I looked at Esme. She didn't even wince, like she didn't even smell it. Still, the burning clawed at my throat. I wanted to scream.

It would be easy to take Dr. Roberts. He didn't look too strong, and if planned correctly and my attack came as a surprise, it would be even easier to sink my teeth into his wrist.

"Esme," I said quietly, making sure that my tone was inaudible to the doctor. "Can I go?"

"Well, thank you for stopping to chat with me, Dr. Roberts," she says, "If you don't mind, I've got a few muffin baskets to deliver."

"Of course! Where does the time go?" he nervously chuckles, "Good-bye Esme."

His scent is still here. I hold my breath. Esme went in and a few moments later I could hear the wrinkling of fabrics and the squeak of the bed.

"Morning, Lucia," Esme cheerfully says to the girl. "I brought you a little something."

I heard a groan, and the creaking of the bed again.

"Here, let me help you up."

"Thank you," Lucia says.

I heard Esme hand her the basket because the plastic crinkled.

"Oh Esme, you didn't have to do this."

"But I wanted to," Esme said.

I realized then that Esme visited these people, showered them with homemade gifts, talked to them for a few moments and pretended to care about them, was all to satisfy her desire to be human again. It made her feel a little more normal and less like a monster. But Esme isn't a monster. She's beautiful and sweet and genuine.

Esme never lies about anything. When I asked her if being a monster would be painless, she told me it would not. She told me that I would go through the greatest pain any one had ever gone through. But even as I wailed about what I had become, Esme stood there strong as a rock and held my hand.

I think God would be pleased with Esme. Even if she's something He does not condone. I'm sure God still thinks Esme is human.

I wonder if I could ever be human too.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: "Who I Am" by Missy Higgins**

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I didn't feel like going inside of the patients' rooms, and in all honesty I didn't want to be at the hospital with all of that blood running in every room, but I couldn't leave Esme behind. Instead, I waited patiently in Carlisle's office, typing on his flat screen computer. I decided to write a story, a short and stupid one about a dog and his owner, and I don't even know how the hell I came up with it, or why my head went into that direction. It was a pretty lame attempt at writing to be honest, but it was something to do.

It's easy to say that I got bored quickly.

I spun around in his chair, busying myself with silly thoughts, like what I could do while Esme was off being human. At first I was entertaining. Then it got boring. I began to think about God again. I wondered if God ever thought about Esme or Carlisle, and the good things that they have done. I wonder if He commends them for it. Is He proud of them? Does He even care?

I haven't prayed in three years. He's probably forgotten about me. I'm sure He doesn't really care though, I mean He's got other things to take care of: people who need saving, people who are worth His time, people who actually deserve Him. What good is caring about someone who can't be saved again? I'm already damned to hell. My soul has already been stolen, and I won't ever see heaven because having one is part of admission. It's useless.

I'm useless.

It's not a good feeling, knowing that God has forgotten you. It's like feeling unwanted. Shame showers your body daily like rain, and you can't even look at yourself in the mirror. I feel disgusting. I feel like the child that is never mentioned, who is such a disgrace that they are unmentionable.

I am unwanted. I am ashamed. I am unmentionable.

Someone's approaching the door, though the footsteps are not human. They're too light. They knock on the door first.

"Come in," I say.

The doorknob twists open and Edward steps in.

Shit.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Chapter 5.**

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It's not that I don't like Edward, because I do; he's a good guy. It's just that he has a stick up his ass all the freaking time. The only time he doesn't seem pained to be around us is when he's around his freaking wife, as if her presence magically rips the pole from his rectum.

Have you ever been around someone who was just really condescending? Like everything you do is stupid or irrational, and they're the only mature human being in the world. And then after you finish embarrassing yourself, you just get awkward whenever you see this person, and you always watch what you say.

That's what it's like around Edward. He's a kill joy.

I've been living with the Cullens for a year now, roughly two years after I was bitten, but Edward and I have never had the opportunity to become close to one another. To be honest I don't want to bother, what with that attitude radiating off of him like heat.

"Good afternoon Sophia," he greets, shutting the door behind him.

_Well it _was _a good afternoon. _"Hey Edward."

"Just stopping by to check on you; see how you were doing."

"Thanks, I'm great. So if that's all --"

"I was worried, this being your first time out of the house and in a hospital no less. Sometimes Esme's decisions are rash, but what can you do. She has a good heart."

_Maybe he won't stay for long? Oh, please go away._ "Yeah," I say.

Edward takes a seat on one of the plush chairs in front of Carlisle's desk, and crosses his legs while simultaneously folding his hands together. His hands are smooth and white, save for the purple bruises under the skin, and look very slender and smooth. Emmett's hands, though just as smooth as Edward's, are a little more bulky. The same goes for Jasper. I wonder if my hands look the same.

Edward looks at me with a smile, though not a genuine one. It's more like an amused smirk, like he's testing my paitence with him. Again the uncomfortable feeling returns. I begin to fidget, twisting my fingers with my hands before dropping my gaze down on the desk. Edward doesn't say anything, but can feel him looking at me, waiting for me to say something.

_Oh please go away. For the sake of my sanity. _I think about spinning idly around in my chair until I want to puke. I also think about jumping out of the window behind the desk, and running as fast as my legs would allow me to until I hit the forest. I think about losing myself in the thick and misty woodlands of Forks. But the more I stay silent, the more I can feel his eyes upon me.

_I should say something to break the silence. Maybe I should wait, see if he comes up with anything to talk about.  
_

I slowly lift my lids to look up at Edward, but he's still sitting there with that amused and expectant face.

_Damn. What do people talk about these days? I'll go with the weather. Everyone likes the weather._

"So," I say awkwardly, "... it's, uh... raining..."

The corner of Edward's mouth twitches. "As it does nearly every day."

"Right," I say._ Well there goes the weather. _

_He's just a dude, Sophie. Dude, dude, dude, dude, dude. Dudey-dude._

He clears his throat.

"Do you like the rain?" I ask.

"It's necessary," he says, "but I prefer the tropics."

"Really?"

"Yes, South America. Mexico to be precise."

"I hear you're not supposed to drink the water."

He chuckles, a smooth but hearty one. "Lucky for me, I don't need to."

"Oh, right, being a ... vampire and all."

"And you?"

"Eh, I'm a history buff. I'd be happy as long as the place has a rich history, like Philadelphia, or the Vatican."

"I must admit that I quite like history," he says to me. "Everything's set in stone. It never changes. Like me."

I laugh.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Chapter 6. Did I mention how great is our God? Seriously? This Dude is the most awesomest guy ever. Happy Good Friday guys.  
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Even if Edward comforted me for those very few moments, I went home thinking about God. Esme drove the Volvo, her eyes fixated on the road ahead as if she were searching for something remarkable. I knew she was giving me some privacy so that I could swim in my thoughts, and I appreciated it greatly. I needed some down time anyways.

When we got home, I went straight up to my room. I didn't stop in to greet Emmett who was in his office reading. I know that was weird, I mean, how I knew exactly what he was doing, but I heard him flipping pages, and the slide of his hands as he leafed through the books. He was a fast reader, contrary to popular belief. He often spent hours just in his office reading. Of course, whatever he was reading was totally unknown to me as well as the rest of the family, but we were never without the sound effect of pages being turned.

My room was nothing spectacular, and I didn't bother to decorate it at all. It seemed pointless, seeing as I was planning to leave the Cullens as soon as my thirst had somewhat subdued and I found a way to make a living. Esme had offered me the guest room, which was significantly larger and had a few more windows because it was at the end of the house, but I chose this one. My room only has one window, which is in the center of the back wall, but for some reason my room is always illuminated. My bed is shoved underneath the window sill, my polka-dotted sheets left in a mess on the bed. A bed_ is_ unnecessary, I know, and it's not like I need it because I can't sleep. Ever. But I couldn't have a bedroom without a bed. It's part of the word, and without the piece of furniture, it would defeat the purpose.

I used to pray at night a lot. Laying down, staring up at the ceiling, I would gather my thoughts and pray to God. I don't think I was making a connection because I really didn't feel any sort of emotion after I did. It was just something I had to do. God was someone I feared. I couldn't establish a relationship with Him. That was like ... like walking up to your principle and just wrapping your arms around him. It's just not done.

I collapsed on my bed, letting a heavy sigh escape from my lips as I stared up at my ceiling again.

_I can't believe I wanted to kill a man._

This is my nature. I can't avoid the calling to kill. I wish I wasn't destined to be a murderer.

_Still, I'm different. I am -- was, a Christian. I should know better._

They say I can't help it. Esme told me it was to be expected, that I'd have to fight these cravings.

_I hate being who I am._

I wish he'd bitten someone else. I wish he didn't steal my soul from me. I wish I could live with myself again.

"Sophia."

It's Bella. I sit up from my bed, startled slightly. "Hey Bella," I say to her.

"I need your help. Please please please come help me out today, I'm just so overloaded with this bake sale thing for Renesmee's class trip, and I have her appointment today with Carlisle that I think I'll be late for after it -- "

The worlds were tumbling out of her mouth at a thousand miles per second, and by the time she finished explaining her story,_ I _was almost out of breath.

" -- so can you come help me out please?"

"Uh-um, yeah sure Bella," I said.

"OH THANK GOD! You'll be helping me out so much!"

_Well, it's not like I had anything better to do anyways._

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"No, no, no Aunt Sophie, you gotta do it like this!" Renesmee corrects me. She's sitting in the back seat, the seat belt wrapped around her little body, and her little feet dangling off of the edge. She smiles really widely, and says, "Support Forks Elementary School! Buy a brownie!"

"Oh really?" I say to her, "How come I can't say 'Buy a cupcake?'"

"Becaauuussseee!" She says, "Marissa Stevens made cupcakes and we don't want her to sell more than us."

Bella smiles in a tad bit embarrassment, but I know she thinks it's just as funny as I do.

"Alrighty, you're the boss here."

"Okay, you gotta say it now."

"Do I have to?"

Nessie smiles. "Yes please."

"Support Forks Elementary! Buy a cupcake!"

"Aunt Sophie!" She says, "Do it like I taught you."

"Oh, okay. Support Forks Elementary! Buy a brownie!"

She claps really loudly and enthusiastically, and Bella and I can't help but giggle. We pull into the parking lot of the supermarket, and Bella starts to scan the lot for an open space up front. Renesmee is so excited that she's practically bouncing her seat.

"Remember," Bella says to her, "Ignore the scent honey. Every time you feel like you're getting hungry just grab a brownie."

"Okey-dokey arty-chokey," she answers. "Can we go now?"

The car stops, and I realize that we've found a space already. Nessie's already got her seat belt off and is in mid-jump out of the door. The loveliest scent wafts in the car through the breeze, and instantly the burning returns. Blood. All of this blood rushing, pumping, moving around in these human bodies. I want to taste it again. Venom pools in my mouth.

_Destined murderer._


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Chapter 7! Time to make things a little less ... cold.  
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I swallow hard, trying to down any venom left in my mouth. But it's still pooling, and I'm still thirsty. I look at Bella but she seems fine. I look at Nessie, but she's smiling happily as she sets up the table. I don't understand why this is so hard for me.

_I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this, I hate this... I think I'm going to do it, I can't hold back the burning anymore I need to ..._

"Edward! What are you doing here?" Bella asks, surprised. I turn to see her kissing him on the cheek.

"Daddy?" Nessie whips her head around to stare at the man hugging Bella from behind the table. She gives him a small smile, but her brow is still furrowed.

"Hi angel," he says. "Just came to support Forks Elementary School." Edward turns to me, giving me a knowing look.

"Hey Edward," I say to him. I feel like he knows what I was -- _oh dammnit, I forgot about that. Urgh._

Edward can read minds, and he just heard what I was thinking, and oh dammnit, dammnit, dammnit all the way to hell.

"Daddy," Renesmee says, "Help us or buy a brownie."

"How much, sweet pea?"

"Fifty cenths."

He digs into his pocket and pulls out a dollar bill. "Keep the change darling, I'm not hungry for brownies."

She takes his cash with a quick swipe of her hands, and dunks the bill into the tin box.

A decent amount of customers stop by, many of them teenage girls coming to pass looks at Edward. I look at Bella, whose chewing on her lip rather hardly, and Renesmee, who doesn't seem to notice anything, and then Edward, who I know is mentally laughing. He could at least be nice and not flirt back. Of course, he's racking in like 5 bucks per customer. I doubt we'll _sell_ more than Marissa Stevens, but we'll certainly _make_ more.

"Teenage girls these days," Bella mutters. "You'd think they'd have some manners."

"Shh," Edward says, who bites back a smile.

I looked at Edward and Bella converse, sharing their own secret smiles and glances at each other, and how Renesmee was the product of all of this. I watched how Edward's eyes softened when he watched his daughter, his baby girl, announce to each customer, "Support Forks Elementary School! Buy a brownie!" and run back to the little tin box to stash the cash. And I saw it was good. This was pure, this was God in his most human form.

And I began to realize that God existed in very different shapes.


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